


New Things

by CheeseLotion



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Beastiality If You Squint, Dom!John, Established Relationship, Experimental Sex, First Smut Fic, Light BDSM, M/M, Military Kink, Nightmare, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-HoB, Pre-Reichenbach, RP-based, Shameless Smut, Smut, Wet Dream, fear kink, ok now i'm just throwing in as many tags as i can, so many kinks thrown into one story, sub!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheeseLotion/pseuds/CheeseLotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock decide to enjoy a quiet evening with a few experiments. </p><p>Based off of a roleplay with my best friend. This is the first time I've published my smut, so bear with me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Things

The evening after a big case was always a little too still for John's taste. Sherlock, after the initial rush of a case that lasted more than two or three days, would shamelessly stuff his face until John was sure he had emptied the kitchen and then crash, usually on the sofa since his bedroom was often too far and the man didn't last more than ten feet before collapsing, asleep. Then he'd sleep the rest of the night, and most of the next day, after which he would be up and perfectly fine, back to his normal routine of driving John up the wall. Until then, John was left with a mostly silent flat, which was unnerving.

Tonight was such a night. John sat at the table by the window, typing out the latest installment of his and Sherlock's adventures. He looked up every now and then, making sure Sherlock was still breathing. Sometimes he stopped typing just to stare at Sherlock, watching his slack face and relaxed eyebrows. It was the most peaceful John had ever seen his boyfriend, and it was almost as beautiful as the face Sherlock made when he climaxed under John's body.

Sherlock made a grumbling sound and curled up against the arm of the sofa, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. John watched him with curiosity; Sherlock hardly ever moved in his sleep. He seemed to get in a comfortable position and John continued to type, smiling to himself. It'd been a while since he'd seen Sherlock dream.

A small noise brought his attention back to the sleeping man. Sherlock's cheeks, barely visible above the fabric of his robe, had turned a pink color and he had his knees pulled up to his chest. "John..." he mumbled, his voice shaky and thick with sleep. He whimpered and twitched. "John...!"

With a tired sigh, John got up and maneuvered around Sherlock's piles of books and newspapers to get to the sofa. He crouched over Sherlock's sleeping form and put his hand on his shoulder. Sherlock twitched again. "Sherlock, wake up," John said quietly. Sherlock stirred but did not open his eyes. He stretched out instead, and John noticed a very prominent tent in his drawers. Blushing just a tad, John shook Sherlock's shoulder. "Wake up, love. You're dreaming," he said with more force and volume. "Wake up, Sherlock."

A snuffle and Sherlock's silvery eyes opened, confused and sleepy. "Mm? John?" he asked the figure above him. His hand flew to his trousers and he gave a frustrated groan. "Damn it," he breathed.

"Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty," John chuckled. Sherlock shifted so John could sit and let the man rest his head in his lover's lap. John ran his fingers through Sherlock's dark curls, a habit he wasn't sure he would ever break.

"What time is it?" Sherlock asked, attempting to look out the window for an estimate.

"Nearly nine. You've been asleep for three hours," John pointed out. Sherlock sniffed in disappointment and rubbed his face in John's thigh. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied, palming himself through his loose pajama bottoms. He sighed and nuzzled the leg beneath his head. "It'll go away soon. I need to stop thinking about it is all."

"What were you dreaming about? What did I have to do with it?" John asked, ignoring the warm sensation that shot to his groin when Sherlock kissed his leg near his knee.

"It was the hound. From Baskerville? It was here in the flat," Sherlock explained into the fabric of John's jeans. "It had you by the leg, but then it... sort of _became_ you and pounced on me. _You_ pounced on me..." He sighed dejectedly. "It was very confusing. My dreams are hardly logical; my imagination has no boundaries when I sleep." His cheeks went bright pink and John could feel the heat in his face. "I was afraid, And aroused at the same time."

"You know, you don't have to be ashamed of a kink. Everybody has at least one," John pointed out.

"I'm not ashamed," Sherlock mumbled. John smirked, petting Sherlock's hair lovingly.

"So, a fear kink?" he said quietly.

"Apparently so," Sherlock shrugged. He snuggled into John's thigh and was still for about five minutes. He huffed impatiently. "And I can't get back to sleep," he grumbled. He glanced up at his boyfriend. "John?"

"Yes, love?" John murmured, having relaxed enough to start drifting.

"Can you help me with... this?" Sherlock pointed at his still erect tent and John smiled. "I think that's what's keeping me awake."

"Of course. Sit up for me," John said. Sherlock did so, and let John scoop him up in his arms. They kissed gently, intertwining their tongues and hands simultaneously. John could feel his jeans getting tight around the zipper and he broke the kiss. "Maybe we should take this to the bedroom...?" he suggested with a twinkle in his eye. Sherlock caught it and nodded vigorously. He kissed John once more and hopped to his feet, practically sprinting to their bedroom- it was 'their' room for four months.

John snuck up to his old room and searched through his closet, all but bare except for a few things in the top shelf. One of these things was a shoe box that John had kept hidden from Sherlock. He didn't want the detective to know all of his sexual kinks and turn-ons, for fear of him taking advantage of the doctor. Tonight John was willing to make an exception. He tucked the box under his arm and jumped down the stairs to his and Sherlock's room, plans and ideas forming in his head. He stopped short and almost doubled over laughing when he saw Sherlock laying seductively on the bed, top three buttons undone and leaving his chest mostly exposed.

"Is this supposed to be funny?" Sherlock asked, confused.

John bit his lip to contain himself. "Not really. It's just that I had something else in mind." He walked forward and put the box on the bed. Sherlock lifted the lid and blushed. Inside was a large collection of bondage items and sex toys. John felt his cheeks warm. "I experimented a lot before we started having sex," he admitted when Sherlock held up a blue dildo. He pulled out a pair of padded handcuffs. "It's up to you, but I was thinking maybe we could experiment together now?"

Almost immediately Sherlock understood, and the thought slithered down his spine and into his groin. He turned around on the bed, holding his hands behind his back for John to cuff him. John took the hint and did so, clicking them snugly around Sherlock's wrists. "That's not too tight, is it?"

"No," Sherlock replied. John smiled.

"Good. I had another idea, if you'll hear me out," John said. Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement. John took a breath. "Can I blindfold you?"

Sherlock turned and stared at John. "Uh, before you start yelling at me, I was just thinking. You said in Baskerville that not being able to trust your senses is frightening. Maybe losing one will-"

"Yes." The word was a demand, almost a plead. "Yes, John. You can."

John felt his heartbeat level out, and then pick up. He could imagine all of the things he could do to a blinded Sherlock. His member twitching, he got off the bed. "Great. Thanks. Uhm, where's your riding crop?"

Sherlock had to swallow before he could answer. "Night table drawer." John opened said drawer to find the riding crop, a length of fabric that was long enough to be tied around Sherlock's head, and a bottle of lube. He took out all three and stood on his knees behind Sherlock.

"Do you wanna use a safe word?" he asked as he tied the blindfold around Sherlock's eyes.

"No. I'll tell you if I need you to stop," Sherlock said. John smiled and lowered his voice, leaning next to Sherlock's ear.

"Well then. I'll let you know right now; when you address me from now on, you will call me Captain or Sir," he said dangerously. "You will do as I say, only as I say, or else I will punish you. Is that clear?" Sherlock cleared his throat and nodded.

"Yes, sir," he murmured.

With a smirk, John moved to the front of Sherlock. He tisked at the shirt he wore. "Too much clothing. This needs to come off immediately," he said, stroking Sherlock's buttons with the riding crop. Sherlock felt his member jump at the gentle touch and nodded. John wasted no time nearly ripping Sherlock's buttons apart and shoving it down his shoulders to bunch at the cuffs, providing a little more cushion purposefully. The last thing John wanted was to hurt Sherlock.

"Bend over. Don't let your head touch the bed," he ordered. Sherlock swallowed and did as he was told without complaint. John shifted behind him and started caressing Sherlock's arse with the riding crop. Sherlock made a small noise and rocked his hips a bit when the crop came up to his trouser line. John flicked his bare skin with the leathery tip. "No. Don't make any noise, and don't try to get yourself off. I want to see how much self control you have."

Sherlock stilled himself and clamped his mouth shut. John tugged Sherlock's trousers down to his knees, and then his pants. Sherlock shivered as he dragged the riding crop across the younger man's bare back, then down to his arse and further to the backs of his knees.

John then smeared some lube on the very tip of the crop's head. He poked at Sherlock's entrance with it lazily, coating the skin with lube. Sherlock still didn't move other than curling his toes. It wasn't until John reached between Sherlock's legs and gently stroked Sherlock's member with the crop that Sherlock gave a small noise that sounded like a moan. John snapped his wrist, slapping Sherlock's bare bum with it.

"What did I say? No noises. You failed the test." John made sure to sound disappointed, although he could feel the heat coiling in his gut, shooting to his cock. This was so unbearably hot. He wondered how Sherlock was feeling. He leaned over to his ear and said in a very rough whisper, "Now you have to make it up."

He saw Sherlock's prick twitch with anticipation. With a grin, John started massaging Sherlock's arsecheeks, prying them apart and licking at his entrance every now and then. Sherlock bit his lip to prevent any noises and balled his hands into fists. He gave a very slight sigh when John backed away. "Better," John nodded in satisfaction. He slicked his fingers with lube and teased Sherlock's entrance, pressing on the skin and circling but never entering. Sherlock nearly squirmed with need, biting down harder.

"Oh, I love seeing you like this. I wish you could look at yourself," John moaned in Sherlock's ear. "I ache to be in you."

With a sly hand, John swirled a finger around Sherlock's head, causing the man to sigh a half-moan. "P-please..."

John slapped Sherlock's arse and then proceeded to use his second finger to wriggle into the foreskin of his prick and circle as well. "I didn't say you could speak," he said in a husky tone. Sherlock whimpered and nodded, his face flushed with arousal. John nipped at his earlobe, which Sherlock trembled at, and crawled back to behind Sherlock. He unzipped his straining trousers as silently as he could, trying to keep Sherlock in the dark about what he was doing. Not that he as allowed to ask nor could deduce well in this state; bent over, red-faced and blindfolded, panting hotly through his teeth and bottom lip in anticipation, prick leaking pre-cum out the tip that dribbled down the shaft...

The doctor shook his head. Tonight was about Sherlock. He removed his shirt silently as well and pushed his trousers and bright red pants down, tossing them all aside. He lubed up his fingers again and without warning pressed one slowly into Sherlock's hole.

Sherlock arched his back, lifting his head a clear foot above the mattress. He bit down on his lip so that bright red blood began to pool at the edge of his teeth. Seeing Sherlock's reaction made John's member twitch with need and extra blood flow. He circled inside, making way for the second finger as he slid it in with even more care. All Sherlock did this time was sigh heavily, which turned into deep panting and writhing hands when John started to scissor him.

John thought about entering a third finger, which he usually did at this point, but Sherlock looked so close. His back was started to flush, and his prick was dripping onto the blanket beneath it, turning slightly purplish with excess blood. Obviously Sherlock was holding back already. He removed his finger slightly, leaving the tips in to hold open the entrance.

The detective stiffened. He knew this part all too well. But this was to surprise him, not to give him something he'd gotten used to. John removed his hand completely. Sherlock whimpered questioningly.

John slicked his cock with lube, making sure to put extra around the head, and pushed both cheeks apart. He slipped into Sherlock with nothing more than a pleased groan.

The reaction was so heady John had to swallow and not just plunge into Sherlock altogether. Shudders and moans erupted from Sherlock as if it was his first time having sex, a mix of wonder and pleasure. His hands dripped slowly with blood as his perfectly manicured nails cut into the soft palms. He'd given up trying to mute himself, his lip bloody and coated in saliva.

"John..." he panted.

That was all the invitation John needed. He buried himself to the hilt, sighing at how tight and hot Sherlock felt around him. For a moment, they sat there, getting used to the feeling, and then John moved, pulling in and out slowly in ever-growing strokes. "John!" Sherlock repeated, his voice thicker and an octave higher than usual. "I can't... I need..."

"It's okay, Sherlock. You can let it go," John urged, panting now with the effort required to hold back his climax.

With a rippling shudder and a shout, Sherlock's semen spurted onto the blankets in white, hot ribbons. Feeling his release in the clenching around him, John allowed himself to orgasm, pressing into Sherlock to ensure it mostly stayed in.

They both collapsed, John on top of Sherlock and Sherlock on top of the cum-soaked blanket, breathing heavily. John swallowed dryly and lifted up, his arms shaking, to pull out of Sherlock. A string followed him, and he swiped it away. He fell next to Sherlock on his back.

"That was... Wow," Sherlock managed to slur. John reached over and untied the blindfold and the handcuffs. 

"You enjoyed it, did you?" he chuckled.

"I've never felt anything like that. Everything was so sensitive," Sherlock mused. "And you... You were amazing."

John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock. He licked the coppery blood, and Sherlock hissed in slightly pain. "Oh, sorry," John apologized wanly.

"It's fine." Sherlock touched his lip with his fingertips.

"So the blindfold worked for you. You know what would be even better? Ear plugs," John grinned. Sherlock moaned at the very thought of it. "I've got a pair in my night table."

Immediately Sherlock was sitting up, cleaning himself off, his prick lifting in interest. John smirked and reached over, searching through his drawer for the little black foam plugs. "On the floor," he said, his command back in his tone.

Sherlock scrambled excitedly, kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed. John got up lazily, making Sherlock wait for him and causing the anticipation to mount for him. "Face the bed," he said. "Put your hands behind your back." Sherlock did so. His member was half-erect now. John felt his own prick warm.

"You'll keep them there, and you won't reach down for anything."

The detective swallowed and took a shaking breath. John took the blindfold and tied it around his eyes. "A few rules before we begin," he growled in his ear. "You won't speak, you won't move unless I move you. You will not rut, and you will not under come until I touch your penis. Is this understood?" Sherlock nodded vigorously. John grinned. He stuck the plugs into Sherlock's ear canals gently and pinched his earlobe. Sherlock's back broke out in gooseflesh.

With Sherlock's shirt, John wiped off the riding crop and ran it around Sherlock's body. He stopped and flicked at pressure points, circling his nipples with a butterfly touch. Sherlock took a deep breath to steady himself. John smirked; he would make this last much longer.

He traced every inch of Sherlock's body except for his now fully hard member with the riding crop, snapping him every time he made a noise. Sherlock quickly learned to hold it in his throat or let it out in breath. Once finished, he gently caressed Sherlock's shoulders and chest with his hands. Again, he lingered in his nipples, swirling his fingers around them and pinching the skin around them but never touching them until he reached down to nip at them, which made Sherlock yelp in surprise. John flicked at Sherlock's thighs with the crop, and he quieted.

John knew that talking was useless. It didn't stop him from murmuring to himself as his hands roamed Sherlock's chest, tracing up and down Sherlock's fine chest hair. He licked his nipples, smirking at the breath Sherlock took to keep himself silent. His hands travelled down further and further, fingertips tickling the edges of Sherlock pubic hair, tugging lightly on it. He watched Sherlock's member flush a deep red and licked his lips, mouth watering at the sight.

He went on, proceeding to lick everything between the hips and the neck. He also took Sherlock's earlobes in his mouth and suckled on them, gaining a satisfying gasp from Sherlock. The detective started out trying to say something, but John bit as his throat lightly to shut him up. He clamped down on his already bloody lip.

Still avoiding Sherlock's now wet-tipped member, John nipped and sucked at various parts of Sherlock's waist and hips. Sherlock squirmed a bit before remembering his orders, but John bit a little harder at the left side of his vee anyway. Sherlock jumped at pressure and stayed his hips. John got dangerously close to Sherlock's balls, breathing heavily on them but never once touching them. Sherlock groaned and shivered, one hand gripping the other's wrist tightly.

When the tip of Sherlock's prick started to purple, John moved away and crawled behind Sherlock. The detective froze, waiting for whatever John was going to do.

John stood back for a full, torturous two minutes before putting his hand on the back of Sherlock's head and roughly shoved his head onto the bed. Nothing but his forehead touched the mattress. He groaned at the touch but bit his lip again to hush himself.

Bending down to Sherlock's bum, John sighed, his breath flying over the warm flesh. Sherlock shivered. John leaned forward and breathed on his entrance hotly. Sherlock arched his back. John licked his entrance, but this time he actually poked the tip in and out of his hole.

The more he teased Sherlock, the better the noises came. John started to ignore the punishments and make Sherlock groan and whimper beneath him. By the time he finished, Sherlock was nearly hyperventilating, and John decided enough was enough.

He slicked up his hot throbbing member with more lube, taking notice of Sherlock's. It was almost magenta now, pre-cum pressing out the tip with every breath Sherlock took. John wanted nothing more than to wrap his lips around it and suck, but Sherlock was in such a state he'd probably come the moment John's mouth fell on it. Instead, he lined up their hips and gently pushed his way into Sherlock's fluttering hole.

The sound Sherlock made had John moaning back, rocking his hips for a moment before remembering himself. He changed angles several times, trying to locate that one bundle of nerves that would make Sherlock either scream or come without warning.

After what must have been ten minutes, Sherlock let out a cry of pleasure and John smiled. He rocked himself in that exact angle, scraping by Sherlock's prostate enough to give Sherlock the ecstasy he was looking for.

By the time John was panting, Sherlock was an absolute mess. He writhed and took shallow breaths, and his prick was probably soaked with pre-cum. He still somehow managed to hold his hands behind his back.

John slipped and angled a little further, hitting Sherlock's prostate fully. The detective gave a scream and a loud sob. "Please, John! Lemme come, please!" he begged.

Even John agreed they'd been holding back too long. With a shaking hand, John reached down and wrapped his hand around Sherlock's insanely hot member.

The response was nearly instant. John felt Sherlock throb as he came powerfully, sobbing and screaming John's name in tortured bliss. The resulting clench pushed John over the edge as well, and he coated Sherlock's insides again.

He pulled out quickly this time, giving Sherlock room to breathe and flopping beside him, back against the bed. Sherlock collapsed in John's lap unintentionally, panting too quickly. John rubbed his chest soothingly, and he gasped when he saw the tears streaking down Sherlock's cheeks. He untied Sherlock's blindfold and took out the ear plugs when the man's breathing had slowed.

Sherlock blinked harshly, taking in the light. "John?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Yes, love?"

"That was better than I could have ever dreamed."

John grinned and peppered Sherlock's face in light kisses. He trailed his fingers over the tear streaks. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Sherlock gave a croaky laugh. "No. I was crying out of relief," he responded. He sighed and curled up in John's lap. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I had the hardest time keeping away from you. Do you have any idea how sexy you are?" John asked, half serious. Sherlock shrugged tiredly.

"I'm exhausted, John," he murmured, eyes slipping closed. John felt the pull of sleep on him as well. He tugged down the blanket off the bed, making sure to keep the semen-covered spot away from them, and curled up with his boyfriend.

"Then go to sleep," he whispered softly. He looked down and smiled. Sherlock already was.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's a little off, Sarah. There's only so much I wanted to put in and by the time I got to writing it, I'd forgotten a lot.


End file.
